


Save the Spare

by JustAround



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, what if
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 12:32:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11185194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAround/pseuds/JustAround
Summary: Buffy's resurrection didn't happen according to plan.  One spell rewrites the course of history.





	Save the Spare

**Author's Note:**

> I love the idea of What Ifs. Not sure where this would end up going, but its a fun idea to play with, though I'm sure other authors have done it much better.

Resurrections never turn out as was intended.

The Witch did all of the proper planning, collected all the necessary items called for by the rituals. The calculations for timing of the spell were impeccably done, down to the very minute it must be cast. Everything was perfect.

Except.

One small morsel of knowledge was not known to the Witch, or to those who had previously done resurrections. Once a soul of a champion fully left that plane of existence, and the body began to decompose, it could no longer re-enter that previous existence. The only way body and soul could be reunited was to reform in another dimension, one where the soul has never been. For body and soul to be reunited in the same dimension would be disastrous, destabilizing the entirety of that world.

When the Witch attempted the resurrection spell, Osiris refused the soul of Buffy Summers to be reunited in her native dimension, refused to allow the rules of nature to be altered so horrifically. Osiris knew the balance would be changed and would allow evil forced to rise as they never had before. But once a resurrection spell had begun, it had to come to completion.

The future of another world was in flux, changing with a resurrection of its own, as the soul of the individual had never left its native plane of existence. The preparations for that resurrection tugged at the soul of Buffy Summers, forcing her into a graveyard that was destined for darkness.

*****

The space around her was tight, compact, the air musty with the remnants of her once-decaying body. She blinked, using eyes that had, until moments earlier, been decaying in its sockets. Those eyes could not focus correctly, causing everything to blur as she reached out with trembling hands push against the top of the confined space, her newly resurrected brain not able to comprehend what was happening.

Not able to comprehend she had awakened in her coffin, buried six feet under the ground.

As her senses slowly returned to her, panic set in as her hands encountered only resistance as she tried to push up the top of her space. Panic caused her to start clawing at the sides of the box, pulling away yards of silky fabric as she jostled and punched, her strength coming back to her suddenly and leaving a fist-sized gap in the top of her box. Instinct kicked in as she kicked, punched, and clawed her way out, fingers fumbling at the dirt that poured into her coffin. Blood dripped from her hands as she pushed herself out through the hole she had created, crawling through splintered wood and disturbed dirt until a rush of fresh air greeted her.

Buffy shakily emerged from the ground, blinking her blurry eyes, desperate to focus on something, anything. She slowly stood, her legs shaking under her, making it difficult to stand. All she was dark around her, the quiet night disturbed only by voices coming from nearby. Taking a step towards the source of noise, she tripped over a headstone and almost tumbled to the ground, her Slayer reflexes saving her at the last moment.

More sounds from nearby. Voices, rustling of people walking through old leaves, the bubbling of something brewing…even with her muddled brain, something did not seem right. Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air, on the earth she walked, down her very bones.

There was dark magic being worked here.

Different voices caught her attention, her body automatically being tugged towards the beings of light moving towards her. She needed to do something, though she was not sure how or why, but something would happen to them if she did not take action.

_Save the spare._

The thought came out of nowhere and without hesitation, Buffy was moving, her once unsteady legs now solid beneath her as the Slayer took over and followed the unspoken command. Her conscious mind had no idea how to distinguish between who was the spare and who was not, but somehow, the Slayer part of her knew. Unfamiliar words were spoken, a bolt of green headed towards the two beings of light - two boys, younger than she. With a burst of speed, she leaped forward and grabbed the taller of the two as the bolt of green hit her.

The two went tumbling head over heels, down a small embankment, leaving the other boy to fend for himself. Down the two rolled until they hit the bottom, him with a hiss of pain as the bones in his arm crunched beneath them, her blinking blankly at him as the last of the spell dissipated from her. The spell left her soul feeling torn and damaged, as if dark magic attempted to tear it out of her body. But her recent resurrection would not allow such a spell to work, instead leaving her dazed and lethargic.

“Wh-what happened,” whispered the Spare, wincing in pain as he slowly propped himself up, taking care to make as little noise as possible. “Who _are_ you?”

The sound of his voice brought Buffy back to the present and she turned to him, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Where am I?”

Her question surprised him. He moved as if to speak before pausing as the voices - and magic - above them began to grow stronger, louder. Instead of answering her, he said quietly, “Hold on to my shoulder. I need one hand to use my wand, and the other isn’t faring well at the moment.”

She finally recognized the British accent he had, though her mind was still too muddled to fully begin to comprehend what was happening around them. The burst of energy from the Slayer seemed to have fizzled with the spell, and the usual grace and skill she usually had was replaced with lethargy. Her hands were again shaking as she put one on his shoulder, and the two slowly - very slowly, to avoid detection - ascended the embankment.

The scene at the top made no sense to her, though by her companion’s sharp breath, nothing was of the good. Where once had only been the other boy and a few others, now stood a circle of dark clothed people. Their loose robes made it impossible to distinguish if they were men or women, and her blurry vision made counting them difficult. Instead, she followed the lead of the Spare as he slowly made his way towards the circle, his wand drawn out as if ready for an attack.

An attack did not come. A blast of light, followed immediately by a second, lit up the dark cemetery, causing Buffy to squint and for the Spare to stiffen in alarm. The lights joined at the center and held, illuminating the circle of robed figures. She could hear words being spoken, but she could not distinguish what was being said, as the feel of dark magic crawled up and down her spine like the feel of a thousand spiders against her skin. The Spare slowly stepped towards one end of the circle, his eyes shifting around continuously. Without any warning, the two lights combined together and exploded. At the same time, the Spare yelled out, “Harry! Over here!”

The next moments passed in a blur. The other boy startled at the sound of his name and ran over to them. Neither of the two boys said a word, but both moved towards a discarded trophy. The Spare grabbed her hand with his and without looking at her, looking at Harry instead, put their combined hands onto the trophy the same time as Harry put his. The word changed around her, and she could feel her body moving through space and time, making her want to scream at the terror of the sensation.

Then, without warning, it was done. They were done. Instead of the dark cemetery, they now found themselves at the edge of a large maze. The Spare dropped her hand and without the firm hold he had on her, she staggered to the ground and would have fallen if it wasn’t for the grip of a tall foreboding man dressed all in black. She blinked uncomprehendingly up at him as chaos reigned around her. She could hear the boys arguing with an older, powerful looking gentlemen. Could hear the Spare yell, “It was him. I saw him with my own eyes!”

Girls screams, boys yells, men and women arguing amongst themselves, all while Buffy could still feel the tearing and pain of her soul from the spell. The man holding her was asking her questions, as were other people, but she shook her head, trying to will all the noise and confusion and chaos away. The grip of the man holding her tightened and she looked up at him fully this time, ignoring his questions, and instead whispered, “Is this hell?”

The question seemed to shock him. He began to ask another question, but exhaustion finally caught up to her. She faltered in his grip, her eyes rolling back into her head as unconsciousness took over her.

She welcomed the darkness.


End file.
